Redemption
by spikala
Summary: A clone officer discovers that the toughest part of making a hard call is living with yourself afterwards. Four part mini-fic.
1. Prologue

_Huge thanks to Amaryllis Complex for giving me the prompts and support that got this story going, and to Impoeia and Ms CT-782 for the support and for convincing me that this story needed to be told._

_Disney owns the Star Wars franchise, I just go and meddle with it for kicks._

* * *

><p><strong><span>Prologue<span>**

.

This is how it happened.

_Fearless_ is burning. Sparked off when an out-of-control fighter slammed into the deck, fires have broken out in the hangar and are raging unchecked. No one can get in touch with the bridge, not since those droid boarding vessels slammed into our hull, and somehow I end up being the most senior officer to hand.

"Lieutenant, what are your orders?" the engineer asks me. I've been cornered outside the hangar and given an impossible choice by this man—vent the hangar or risk losing the ship. With the fires, no fighters can launch and we're dead meat unless we can get our pilots out there. But there are still crews inside the hangar, fighting the flames as best they can.

"Get those men out first," I say.

He shakes his head. "There's no time."

I rack my brain for alternatives, but nothing comes up. I can feel the weight of all those lives settling around my neck. "Seal the section then vent it," I order him.

He swallows, but I can see the relief in his eyes as he starts tapping away at the console. He's just following orders now, rather than making the call.

The blast door behind us starts to close and then stops. It's jammed. We're in a section of corridor that leads directly to the hangar. There won't be anything protecting us when the vent happens.

I look at him and he shakes his head. I wish for my armour; at least then I'd have ten minutes of air. My greys offer no such protection against the black.

"Vent the bloody section," I say.

He pushes a button. I know that in the hangar, klaxons are going off, the deflector shields are dropping and the atmosphere is rushing out in a huge blast of air and fire, taking anything not nailed down with it. I know this because the temperature drops just as that same gust catches me and the engineer up, sucking us out into the black.

I remember to exhale. Lights are flashing out in the black. I can feel the saliva start to boil on my tongue.

I must be seeing double. Or maybe it's triple. For whatever reason, there are now three ships out here. I can't help but think that it would be nice to breathe about now. And there's a fighter coming right at me…

Great.

* * *

><p><em>Soundtrackprompt for this was: 'PotatOS Lament' from Portal 2._


	2. Act I - Radioactive

_I figured seeing as the prologue was so short, I might as well put the first chapter up at the same time :) Hope you enjoy._

* * *

><p><span><strong>Act I - Radioactive<strong>

.

Russ woke up. This was unexpected because a) he wasn't floating in space anymore and b) he was still alive.

"Good to see you're still with us, Lieutenant. You had me worried for a bit."

Russ tried to open his eyes, but there was something, some fabric, holding them shut. The voice was familiar, yet not. Another clone then, but someone he didn't know. He reached up, but his hand was intercepted.

"No can do, Lieutenant," said the mystery man. "You've busted out most of the capillaries in your eyes, even with bacta, they're still healing. Not to mention that you've got type 2 decompression sickness, that's not something to be sniffed at."

It was during the listing of his medical woes that Russ pegged that he was in a med bay of some type, talking to a medic. No wait, he was talking to Sergeant Soap, one of the _Fearless's_ medics.

Russ lifted his head and something brushed against his mouth. Russ investigated with his lips and found it was a straw. Cool water filled his mouth and he drank greedily.

Soap kept talking. "You're in _Fearless_'s med bay. You've been bacta for five days now, so take it easy. As you may've guessed, the ship's still here. Our friends turned up to give us a hand: _Implacable_ and _Demolisher_. Just as well they got there when they did; they scooped you out of the black neat as you please. Another minute and you'd have been a goner."

Russ paused. "And the commander?"

"Alive and well, along with most of the bridge crew. The clankers sabotaged the on-board comms system, so they were shouting themselves hoarse in there trying to talk to the rest of us."

Russ couldn't believe it. Commander Gett was alive that whole time? Then he'd gone and subverted the chain of command and killed his shipmates, perhaps needlessly. Russ sank back on the bed. There was one more thing he had to ask. "The other men, the ones who were in the hangar. Did they make it too?"

"You should get some sleep, Lieutenant. You'll be in here for another week, with regular check-ups for a while after that, so there's no rush." The medic sidestepped the question and Russ felt his blood turn to ice.

* * *

><p>It happened again, in the mess hall this time.<p>

Russ had filled his tray, left the queue in front of the warming trays, and was casting around for an empty table. That was when someone jostled him from behind. He caught himself in time, but unbalanced by his sudden lurch, half his dinner went flying to splatter on the floor at his feet.

"Sorry about that, sir."

The voice wasn't not at all contrite or sorry. It was about as disrespectful as you can get without being pulled up on charges. Russ didn't bother to look around to find the culprit. He knew the other men would just close ranks and the speaker would slip away into the crowd. Three weeks of experience had taught him that. He retrieved a scrap of cloth from the bench and started mopping up the mess.

"You on a diet there, _ner vod_?"

Russ looked up to find Cam, the last person he wanted to see right now, frowning down at him, tray in hand.

"Just an accident," Russ said. He'd been lucky today—he had most of his meal on the tray.

"You seem to be having a lot of those recently." The frown didn't budge from Cam's face. "Lost a bit of weight, no?"

Russ dumped the cloth into the waste receptacle and headed for the least empty table in the room, Cam following him like an unhappy shadow. As Russ approached, the other men got up to leave, uneaten food still on their trays. None of them looked at him. Cam saw it all.

Russ started shovelling down the remains of his meal as fast as he could. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could leave.

Cam glanced around surreptitiously and lowered his voice. "Heard from… you know… recently?"

"No," Russ lied. He didn't feel much like talking about Orin with Cam, much less unravelling the complicated reasons why it would be best for both of them if she stopped trying to contact him. "It's better that way," he said brusquely.

Cam stopped eating, pushing today's mystery goop around his tray with his spoon. "Russ…"

"Don't."

"But—"

"Just don't."

For the first time, Russ was relieved that he didn't have much on his tray. He'd asked to be on a different shift from Cam for a reason. He knew what was coming now: Cam would try and tell him that it wasn't his fault, that he couldn't have known and he should talk to Orin. Or he would have another rant at everyone in the mess hall for treating Russ like he was radioactive, in turn making things that much worse. He didn't need this. He stood to go.

Cam looked at him blankly. "But you haven't finished."

"Not hungry."

Before Cam could object some more, Russ tipped out his tray and left.

* * *

><p>"Incoming message for the Commander," Russ said, his fingers flicking over the console as he verified the security tags for the fourth time. "It's Kuat."<p>

Commander Gett nodded. "Very good, Lieutenant." He crossed to the console, ready for whoever was calling.

Russ fed the message from the _Fearless_'s com centre to the command console, making sure to buffer the vid feed and the audio; it wouldn't do for the signal to flicker or cut out. It could be a message about nearby enemy ships, a Code Four—an urgent call for immediate assistance, or a warning of a Separatist offensive. Lives could hang in the balance.

A blue figure sprang to life in front of the Commander, strong and vibrant, and began talking about personnel requisitions and ship modifications. Russ let out a small sigh of relief: no life and death scenarios and the message was coming through perfectly.

He turned to hand control of the message to one of his junior communications technicians. Regs said that the Comms Officer didn't have to initiate each message, but Russ preferred to. This was his job, his post, so he was damn well going to make sure it was done right every time.

The take-over man, Link, nudged him subtly. "Good job, ell-tee," he whispered.

Russ nodded and the other man slid into place, smoothly catching a tremor in the signal and modulating it into nothingness. Russ watched for a moment more to make sure that Link had everything under control, and then went back to helping Zine, who was new, with the larty com system upgrade. Four-Four, who maintained he didn't want a name, was working on the other console, monitoring shipboard comms.

"Lieutenant."

He looked up to find Cam there; it must be getting near shift change. He gave a nod in acknowledgement. "Lieutenant."

"Quiet shift?" Cam asked.

Russ handed over the datapad that contained the shift report. Everything that had happened in the last six hours, all communications, issues, and work done were logged there so that the comms officer of the next shift could bring himself up to date.

"Four feeds, twelve squawks," Russ said, slipping into com centre jargon as Cam accepted the report. "Com system on Deck Four went down, but that's been fixed." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zine's face crinkle up in confusion. Cam saw it too.

"Feeds are messages that involve holographic images," Cam clarified. "Squawks are text-only messages."

Zine looked mortified that he'd managed to come to the attention of not one, but two officers. "Yes, sir."

The _Fearless_'s computer chimed three times: end of another shift. Cam's team filed into the communications centre, taking over from Russ's lot. All around them, the bridge crews were also changing over and a growing number of men were beginning to crowd the exit. On the catwalk, Commander Gett was handing over to his second in command, Major Nies.

Russ followed the crowd out of the bridge and towards the turbolifts. Small conversations started up as the tension drained away. Everyone had sat their shift and done their duty. Now it was time to kick back and relax—right after they managed to get in the turbolifts and get out of here. Small dings signalled the arrival of all three turbolifts. There was a surge as everyone tried to get on at once

"Hey ell-tee!"

Russ turned to see Link waving at him across the sea of faces.

"You wanna get some chow then go a few rounds in the gym?" Link called, as the press of bodies carried him away.

Good old Link. He just didn't seem to get that spending time with Russ would be social suicide. Russ forced a smile. "Another time maybe."

Link beamed. "Sure thing, ell-tee."

Link crammed into a turbolift along with Four-Four, Zine, and a crowd from Weapons and Tactical. Russ heard one of the weapons team hissing at Link: "Whad'ja wanna hang with _him_ for?" Then the doors slid closed.

The noisy chatter backed right off and Russ realised with a sinking feeling that it was just him and Commander Gett left in the corridor waiting for a 'lift. He could fob off Cam, they were friends and the same rank to boot, but Commander Gett was, well, the commander. Russ didn't have the same manoeuvring space with him. He picked a spot on the 'lift controls and stared at it in the hopes that the commander would take the hint that he didn't feel like talking.

"So, I take it you're still _persona non-grata_ with the rest of the crew, Russ?"

Nope. The commander either didn't get the hint or had gotten it and promptly decided to ignore it. Russ suspected the latter. If it had been Cam, Russ would've just given him the silent treatment, but he'd been asked a direct question by his commanding officer. Shab.

"It's true that I'm not particularly popular amongst the men, sir," Russ said reluctantly, still starting at the control panel. "Rest assured it will not affect the performance of my duty."

"I didn't say it did. But I can see that it's affecting you."

Russ didn't say anything.

Commander Gett sighed. "Look, Lieutenant. You and I both know that it wasn't your fault. Had I been in your position, I might've made the same call—"

"But you didn't!"

Both of them fell silent, stunned by Russ's outburst. Russ couldn't believe it—he'd interrupted his CO mid-sentence, yelled at him even. After all the commander did for him, how he explained to the whole ship that Russ had done 'the right thing' and tried to smooth things over, Russ had just turned around and yelled at him. He felt sick. The silence stretched, becoming awkward. Any moment now, the commander would recover and try to talk to him. Russ couldn't bear it.

He blurted out the first excuse he could think of. "Excuse me, sir, but I seem to have left my cap on the bridge."

Snapping out a salute, Russ strode away from the lifts and his CO as fast as he could. He waited in a dead-end corridor until he was sure that the commander had left, then he retraced his steps and rode the 'lift back to his quarters.

The room was deserted, just steel-grey bunks and dark grey bedding. There was no one around, just the echoes of four people's lives stacked into a small space. No one to look at him with distaste, hatred, or worse—pity. Russ flopped down on his bunk and dug around under the mattress until he found his datapad.

It woke up when he touched it and a small reminder popped onto the screen. He was supposed to send a squawk Orin's way. Russ deleted the reminder. He hadn't sent her anything since… He felt a small twinge of guilt. She would probably be worrying at this gap in their—until now—regular communication, but he pushed it aside. She was probably better off forgetting about him.

He brought up his latest study materials, a schematic of the _Fearless_'s electrical systems, and set his alarm. He needed to be out of here when Cam got off-duty, otherwise Cam would frown over him until he agreed to get some sleep. Russ snorted. He didn't need sleep, he needed to never make another mistake again. If that meant sacrificing a few nights of sleep to memorise everything perfectly, then so be it. He would never get anyone else killed again, this he vowed.

* * *

><p><em>Soundtrackprompt for this chapter: 'Radioactive' by Imagine Dragons._

_About the posting schedule - this is just a short four-chapter mini-fic, so next week will be part 3, and the week after will be the conclusion._


	3. Act II - The Call

**Act II - The Call**

.

At first when Orin didn't hear from Russ, she didn't worry. It had happened before—the _Fearless _was on a covert mission or Russ was up to his ears in work. Months of being in a long-distant relationship had taught her that the few weeks they'd shared when _Fearless _ had helped evacuate her city were a rare thing. But he'd get in touch as soon as he was free, probably in a few days.

A few days passed. Orin checked and re-checked the message box that Russ had set up. It was a way for them to keep in contact that wouldn't compromise _Fearless_'s security—he'd leave a message on the remote server, she'd retrieve it, and vice versa. But there were no messages.

She checked the holonet sites where the few citizens that were following the fighting, mostly young males that were swept away by the romance of war, could keep abreast of developments. There was no news of the _Fearless_. So she carried on, as she had done for months on end now, and did her best not to let her imagination get away from her.

Another week passed and Orin heard that the _Fearless_ had 'received minor damage during a skirmish with Separatist forces'. There was no mention of casualties—there never was. Reports mentioned attacks, counter-offensives, bases, and fleets. Broad sweeping things, but never the men themselves. Orin left Russ a message, updating him on all the little minute of her life that she knew he liked to hear about: trying a new dish at a tapcaf, an former co-worker bringing in her new baby, the arrival of the first spring flowers, a new dress. She submerged herself in her life in safe, far away Commenor and did her best to keep going. It wasn't easy.

Two weeks became three and Orin worked harder, stayed up later, partied recklessly, and laughed more. If anyone noticed the shadows under her eyes and the way her laughter sounded forced, they didn't mention it. All the while, she kept leaving Russ messages. All the while, she waited to hear from him. All the while, silence.

* * *

><p>Cam had just come off-duty. It was early morning on the Fearless, most of the troopers on-board were getting their first meal of the day. The mess hall was going to be absolutely jam-packed. Even the commander's newly instigated meal roster hadn't eased the congestion by much. In any case, Cam had made sure to eat prior to going on shift. All he wanted now was some rack time. Well, rack time and his best buddy to come to his senses.<p>

He made his way down the corridors, cap in hand so as not to have to deal with all the saluting. Sometimes being an officer was a right pain. He just hoped that Russ would be asleep when he came in. Russ was working himself into the ground; not eating, staying up all hours, and beating himself up over something that wasn't his fault. Stupid di'kut couldn't see it, but it was starting to show. Cam had now fixed three mistakes Russ had made during his shift as Comms Officer. For Russ to make one mistake was rare, two was unheard of, and three? Strictly speaking, Cam should've brought this to Major Nies's attention already. But he hadn't, so now his arse was in the firing line as well.

Cam rounded the corner and made his way to the fifth door on the left. The door slid open silently, to reveal three empty bunks and one occupied by a loudly snoring Russ.

Cam let out a breath he didn't remember holding. He loosened the neck of his tunic where it was starting to pinch him and stripped off his gloves. Russ was still fully clothed; he'd apparently fallen asleep before changing to his sleep shorts. He wasn't even lying down properly, his face ground into the wall instead, and with his neck at an uncomfortable-looking angle. Cam went over and, with a bit of grunting, manoeuvred his friend into a horizontal position.

That was when he noticed the datapad. It had fallen onto Russ's blanket when Cam had moved the other man, its screen still on and glowing. Cam sighed. Russ was pushing himself so hard and for no good reason. He half felt like taking it off Russ, maybe that would shock some sense into him. What was so important about it anyway?

Out of curiosity, he picked up the 'pad. Indecipherable diagrams flickered past. He was about to put it down when it beeped at him. Cam flinched, feeling guilty about nosing around, but Russ didn't twitch. A small 'to do' list popped up on the screen: _Message Orin—28 Days Overdue. Unread Messages—5._

Perhaps it was intrusive of him to read Russ's messages, crossing over that thin, artificial line of privacy that every man needed in order to be able to live in such tight quarters. However as far as Cam was concerned, Russ had waived his right to privacy when he started acting like a droid.

Two messages in, he had realised what Russ was doing and that he wasn't the only person that Russ was trying to push away. This wasn't on.

He just hoped that Orin could get through to Russ. He hoped that Russ would let her help him.

* * *

><p>Russ was in good spirits when he returned to the infirmary for his follow-up medical. He'd memorised the <em>Fearless's <em>electrical system in less than three days. It had taken him twice that time to learn the environmental system, and today was his last check-up before things went back to normal. He'd been warned that there was a risk that he might suffer long-term damage from his spell in the black, but he wasn't worried. He'd been pushing himself harder than ever in the gym and seemed to be as good as new. This check-up was just a formality before he could get back to important things, like upgrading the security systems on the larty com system.

The droid ran the scanner over Russ's chest one last time, making artificial 'hmming' noises as it did so. It was really starting to irritate Russ—both the noise and the fact that it was taking an age to finish something that should been a two minute job.

"Well, what is it?" he growled as it finally lowered its appendage.

"It seems that the damage to your alveoli as a result of your recent extravehicular activity is permanent. Because of this, future incidents could result in total loss of function."

Russ just grunted. Only a droid could make it sound like he'd just gone for a stroll outside the airlock on a whim. He muffled the urge to vent his frustration on its metal casing. "In Basic, Two-Bee."

"You are no longer fit for shipboard duty. Any sudden pressure changes could rupture the lining of your lungs." The droid turned aside, extending a probe towards the med bay's computer terminal.

"Wait! What? What are you doing?"

The droid tilted its head towards him as though it were inspecting an interesting specimen. "I am appending your file so that you will be transferred off the ship at the next opportunity."

"Off the ship?" Russ repeated numbly.

"That is what I said." The droid waved its scanner in front of his face. "It seems that your hearing has been damaged as well. Please hold still so that I may complete the scan."

He waved it aside, unthinking. "The scan is completed. There's nothing wrong with my hearing."

It paused. "Very well then. Please vacate the bay for other patients." It plugged itself in, the docking rings of the data terminal spinning as the droid took his years of service on the _Fearless_ and turned it into nothing.

Not fit for shipboard duty. Transferred off _Fearless_. He looked at his hands in his lap—they were shaking.

* * *

><p>Out of the blue, her com-link chirped. Orin paused, fork halfway to her mouth. She was eating dinner; whoever it was could wait. She kept chewing, ignoring the little chirps until they finally stopped.<p>

She had finished her vegetables and was starting on the good stuff when it beeped again, more insistently this time. Orin shoved her meal to one side, grumbling about inconsiderate people as she rummaged in her bag for the annoying thing.

"Yes?" she snapped.

"Am I speaking with Orin Fenn?" a familiar voice asked.

Orin's heart leaped. "Russ, is that you?"

The instant the words left her lips, she knew it wasn't. The voice was close, but it wasn't quite right. It lacked a certain properness and wryness. Her mystery caller confirmed her hunch.

"Apologies, ma'am. I'm CT-9353—Cam. We met on the—"

"On _Fearless_," Orin filled in, impatient to get to the meat of the conversation. "You're Russ's friend. You're in communications too, right?"

There was a pause. "That's correct, ma'am."

Orin's stomach clenched up. Why was Cam calling instead of Russ? Why would… Oh no. Her knees went wobbly; just as well she was sitting down, she thought numbly. Everything seemed hyper-real, as though her brain was trying to take in everything for posterity's sake.

"Is he dead?" she heard herself ask.

Her voice sounded all wrong, flat and eminently practical. She could've been asking about the weather. A tiny part of her shouted, 'not Russ!' while the rest of her curled into a ball and wailed.

"No."

Cam's reply threw her adrift again, a welter of conflicting emotions assaulted her. He wasn't dead! But then why hadn't he replied to her messages?

"He isn't reading them," Cam said.

Orin realised she must've said that last part aloud.

"He's in a bad way," said Cam. "We were in a battle with a Seppie ship. Russ had to make a decision. It wasn't a bad decision," he hastened to add. "But a lot of men died and that's weighing on him a fair bit."

Orin swallowed a lump in her throat. Luckily for her, she didn't need to reply as Cam kept on talking.

"I've spoken to the commander and he thought it might help to snap Russ out of it if he could touch base with you."

"Russ's commander knows about us?" Orin managed to croak. "I thought Russ wasn't allowed to be seeing someone."

Cam's hesitation wasn't reassuring in the slightest. "Under the circumstances," he said carefully. "I think the commander will take whatever help he can get."

"What am I supposed to do? He's not—" She had to try again. "What if he doesn't want to see me?" It hurt even to say it.

"Talk to him," Cam said. "Comm him. The commander's already signed off on it."

Orin's brain was skittering away from the darker side of the situation, only able to focus on one thing: she could talk with Russ again! Cautiously, not wanting to be shot down, she asked, "would it help if I saw him in person?"

The silence that followed was so long that she thought for sure that the signal had been lost.

"Are you still there, Cam?"

"Yes ma'am. I have to run this by the commander first. Could you please wait one?"

Wait one what? "Okay," she said.

She laid the com-link down on the table beside her and poked at her congealing stew with her fork while she waited. She should really finish her dinner, but the globs of yellow fat ringing the plate weren't helping her appetite any. After a beat, she jumped up and threw it out.

What was she thinking? Sure, she had the credits and enough leave saved up to go off-planet for a bit, but did she really want to use it all up on a guy who couldn't be bothered to get in touch for almost a month to let her know that, oh yeah, he actually was still breathing? Orin didn't know whether she should feel angry, relieved, or worried. In any case, her brain seemed to have thrown in the towel and just gone for all three at once.

"Are you still there, ma'am?"

Orin snatched up the small device. "Yes! I mean, yes. I'm still here."

"The commander says we'll be coming into RHE shipyards, on Rothana, in 76 hours—that's a little over three days from now. If you can be there, you can see Russ."

She grabbed some flimsiplast before she could forget. "RHE Yard," she repeated, writing it down. "On Rothana in 76 hours. Got it."

"That's correct, ma'am." Cam said. "I hope to see you there."

There was a small click and he was gone, leaving Orin to stare at the lifeline in front of her.

Could she get there in time? And more importantly, did she want to?

Some tiny, petty part of her was furious and humiliated that Russ was alive but hadn't contacted her. Like he thought all her worrying and sleepless nights were no big deal. But that petty bit was almost drowned out by her exhilaration at finding out that not only was he alive, but she could see him for the first time in months. It was a non-decision—whirling maelstrom of emotions aside.

Orin poured herself a cup of herbal tea, and punched in her best friend's com-number. "Hi Mayher. I'm going to be out of town for a bit. Could you look after the place for me?"

* * *

><p>After the minor medical check-up that wasn't so minor, it just got worse for Russ.<p>

"I'm sorry to be losing you, lieutenant," Commander Gett said, leaning across his desk towards Russ. "But I'm sure that the training cadre on Kamino will greatly benefit from your expertise."

Kamino. Russ felt a shiver go down his spine. "Couldn't I be assigned to a different ship, sir? Even a planetary shuttle? No chance of being sucked into the black there." He forced a smile.

The commander's face was sympathetic, but his posture screamed no. "I'm sorry, Russ," Commander Gett said gently. "But according to Medical, the constant pressure changes in shuttle work would be even worse for you than staying on board the _Fearless._"

Russ dropped his eyes. He was grounded. He was useless and his body was useless. Somehow it made it that much worse to have two strikes against him. "I can still help, sir," he tried. "No one knows LAAT/i comm systems like I do."

Commander Gett cut him off. "Which is why we need you on Kamino, passing on your knowledge to the cadets. My decision is final. You'll disembark when we reach Rothana, so don't forget to draw out a set of armour from Supplies. Dismissed."

So soon! Rothana was only three days away. Russ managed to return the commander's salute and plodded to the door. He'd just opened it when the other man cleared his throat loudly.

"Ah, lieutenant, one more thing. There'll be a few days before your shuttle to Kamino arrives, so you'll have some time to spare."

Russ managed to nod politely and ducked out of the office.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed :)<em>


	4. Act III - Until the End

_Thanks so much to everyone who has read and big thank you to those who commented. I hope you enjoy the story conclusion._

_The soundtrack to this chapter is Breaking Benjamin's "Until the End"._

* * *

><p><span><strong>Act III - Until the End<strong>

.

Three days was an eternity. Russ wandered around the _Fearless_ like a ghost. Sure, he turned up for his shift and calisthenics at the right times, ate whatever parts of his meal didn't end up on the floor, but it wasn't the same.

In every moment, he kept wondering if this was the last time he'd do that particular activity, or be in this part of the ship. He even briefly contemplated taking a long walk out a short airlock before his common sense slapped him down. It wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to stay.

He roamed all over the _Fearless_ trying to memorise the shapes of her corridors, the faint smell of recycled air and human bodies that lingered, the sounds her engines made—all the little things that set the _Fearless _apart from all of the other _Acclamator I-class_ ships out there. He kept telling himself that it was for the cadets' benefit as much as his own. He'd be expected to know the _Fearless_ inside and out before he could train anyone else. Thankfully no one called him on it.

He did his best to make sure that the changeover in the comms centre would be smooth. Link, Four-Four, and Zine accepted it unblinkingly. They just assumed that he was going to be on a different shift from now on. Russ didn't bother to correct them. He got enough looks of pity from Cam and Commander Gett as it was, so he just kept putting his team through their paces so they could carry on while the new officer found his feet, and deflected all their invitations to come eat with them after he joined third shift. Uneventful shifts didn't help his growing feeling of dread as Rothana drew ever nearer.

_Fearless's_ computer chimed three times—he was off duty again, and again nothing much had happened. Squwarks, feeds, those damned larties. Same old, same old. He yearned for it to be like this forever more, but the ship's chrono kept clicking over. They'd be at Rothana in less than a day now. That had been his last shift. Russ swallowed a lump in his throat.

As he jammed into the turbolift with the rest of the crowd, Link tried again to get him in the gym. Even Four-Four pitched in this time, offering a game of paran ball. Russ was briefly tempted, but he needed to square his gear away before he went round the _Fearless _again.

Lieutenant Vidar was reading a weapons manual on his bunk when Russ entered. Russ had to wait for him to go before he could begin packing up his things. The ship's gossip machine had probably already caught wind that he was leaving, but Russ wasn't keen to throwing more fuel on the fire. Once Vidar had left, he suited up, changing into his bodysuit and strapping the armour plate by plate. The only thing he took with him, tucked into his belt, was a small, metal hair-clasp, one that Orin had accidentally left behind in the mess hall after their first real conversation. Everything else, he left behind. He could draw out clothing and an ablutions kit from the storerooms on Kamino, and he hadn't spread his personality around his quarters. There was nothing to mark this space as his, but he still said a quiet goodbye in his head as he closed the door.

* * *

><p>Russ made his way down to the engine room, safe and anonymous in his white armour. He looked just like any other trooper moving about the <em>Fearless's<em> hallways—nothing special or extraordinary about him at all. Only a tally sensor would've said otherwise.

He wanted to have one last look at the reactor core, the heart of _Fearless_, before he had to leave her for the last time. He also had a couple of questions for the new chief engineer about the piping systems that transferred the transmatter from the fuel pods to the reactor that sat in the deep innards of the ship, right at her centre.

He slipped into the engineers' ready room without a hitch. Trammet, the senior engineer on shift, was lazing about in his chair, feet on the console. Russ had to grit his teeth at that. Two other junior engineers that Russ didn't recognise were at the table, working on something on their datapads. No one recognised him in his armour, fine by him. Russ removed his bucket and watched the postures change.

Trammet sat up, taking his feet down one by one. "What are you doing down here?" he said, chin jutting out as he got out of his chair.

"I'm looking for the chief. Is he about?"

"Nah. He's up top." Trammet flicked his eyes upwards, indicating the bridge. "Why?"

"Got some questions about the fuel pods. This is, after all, the engineers' room." Russ gestured at the office contemptuously. For once he didn't feel like just bending over and taking Trammet's lip.

"Can't help you." Trammet crossed his arms to further demonstrate his unwillingness to help.

Russ's eyes narrowed. "That's, 'I can't help you, _lieutenant._'"

"Yes, sir," Trammet said sullenly.

Russ was about to lay into him when the floor shuddered beneath his feet, then lurched alarmingly. Russ's gut clenched in that horrible sensation that happened whenever _Fearless _transitioned from hyperspace. Klaxons started up in the corridor outside—the awful wailing drone of action stations. Red lights came on all over the console, a hemisphere of malfunctioning systems and alarms. Trammet flew over to it, Russ and the two juniors hot on his heels.

"What happened?" Russ asked as he watched Trammet's hands dart from screen to screen, button to button.

"We've dropped out of hyperspace," Trammet said.

A fresh alarm started up on the far side of the console, out of reach. Trammet darted over to it.

Russ glanced at the two younger clones who were just standing limply beside Trammet. "Shouldn't you be helping him?" The engineering console was designed for three people and was sized accordingly. To respond to the alarms, Trammet had to keep going from one side to the next, chewing up precious seconds each time he moved.

The nearest one shrugged helplessly. "We don't know what to do! We're normally with environmental control, we haven't got to the reactor systems yet. Today's our first day down here."

The other clone just shook his head when Russ looked at him. No help there.

Russ hesitated. He should really get to his action station, fire control on deck five, seeing as he was off-duty and Cam would be on the bridge, but a quick glance at Trammet showed Russ that the other man was struggling to do a three—or at worse, two—man job all by himself. To make matters worse, the chief engineer was now barking at Trammet over a com-link, demanding to know what was going on.

"It's the main reactor, sir!" Trammet yelled into the spindly microphone that jutted from the console. "She's shut herself down, but no ideas why."

"I want the secondary reactor running as soon as possible," the chief told him. "We're heading for an asteroid field and we've got no shields."

Another red light started flashing dangerously and Trammet had to again drop what he was doing to attend to the new alert. The juniors got out of the way, but other than that they were about as useful as the table.

"Move over," Russ ordered. This is what happened when you specialised too much: you made mistakes and got people killed. "Fire control, deck five. Do what you can."

They set off at a run. Russ slid in beside Trammet, taking over half of the console so that the other man could focus on the rest. Russ glanced as the array of indicator lights, mentally noting down the worst hit systems and triaging them. Other engineering crews scattered throughout the ship were doubtless doing the same thing right now.

"Secondary reactor is still offline," Russ reported. "Gauges show that no fuel is getting through to the reactor core."

Trammet grunted. "Computer should've re-routed the fuel by now. Something's not right."

Russ shifted so that the other man could look at the panel. Pressure in the main line that went from the fuel pods to the secondary reactor was zero. Nothing was flowing. They needed to open up the secondary line and get that fuel going.

There was a crackling as the chief engineer came back on the line. "Trammet, do _not_ route fuel from pod one to the secondary reactor. Repeat, do _not_ take fuel from pod one."

Russ frowned. Why not pod one? _Fearless_ had six fuel pods, draining them one at a time, if he remembered correctly. Pods one through three had been refilled just recently at Kalevala.

"Acknowledged," said Trammet. "Can I ask why, sir?"

"Commander Gett just got a message from GAR HQ. Apparently the Kalevalans have deliberately contaminated the fuel—protest against the war or some _osik_ like that. _Demolisher_ had to be towed back to the shipyards."

As Trammet and the chief talked, Russ shut off the valves that led from pods one through three to the main reactor. He didn't know how to put a lock out on the valves so that no one accidentally opened them; for all his studying he was a comms officer, not an engineer. He'd have to ask Trammet to do that. But the valve to pod one didn't close. He caught Trammet's eye and pointed at the offending light.

"Lieutenant," Trammet said to comlink. "Our panel says the valve on pod one isn't shut. Can you confirm?"

"Copy that, Corporal," the chief said. "Bridge confirms—pod one valve is not shut. You'll have to get in there and do it manually. The ship's thrusters aren't going to be enough to get us clear of those asteroids. We need that reactor asap."

"Lieutenant," Russ interrupted. "The fuel pod compartment has lost pressure."

"Who is this?" the chief demanded.

"This is Lieutenant Russ, from communications, Lieutenant"—Russ saw Trammet mouth Kay at him—"Kay," Russ added quickly.

There was a pause. "Trammet, is he right?"

"Yes, sir," Trammet said. "There is no pressure in that section."

No pressure meant no air. There was no way that Trammet would be able to get that valve shut before he needed to breathe. But Russ had his armour on, and that gave him ten minutes of oxygen.

"Lieutenant, I can close that valve," he said. "I'm in my armour and I know the system."

There was a burst of static as Kay snorted down the microphone. "The hell you do."

"Fuel pod one's valve is an electromagnetic valve," Russ said calmly. "Manufactured by Limitec Systems. I'll need to remove the electrical actuator first, then use the 'close' magnet in order to shut the valve." He replaced his helmet and took the magnet that Trammet offered.

There was a pause and then— "Do it," the chief ordered.

"Copy that." Russ headed towards the fuel pods at a run. He could do this.

* * *

><p><em>Fearless<em> drifted into the Rothana shipyard, gracefully settling into the docking clamps as Orin watched in awe. Hearing the war buffs on the holonet enthuse about the features of the different ships hadn't prepared her for just how big they really were.

She sat, duffle beside her, watching out the viewing port as dozens of smaller ships started scurrying around the _Fearless_'s hull. Right about now, Russ would be coming off the ship, and making his way towards her. She couldn't wait to see him and fully intended to kiss him to within an inch of his life once she'd finished telling him off for making her worry.

Minutes turned into tens of minutes, then an hour. No Russ.

A figure, all dressed in grey, rounded the corner and came towards her. Orin felt her heart speed up. Then as the man drew nearer, she realised it wasn't him. He stopped in front of her.

"Hello," she said, offering him a too-bright smile. "I'm waiting for Lieutenant Russ. CT-57-688."

"Six _six_ eight."

"Pardon?"

"Russ's number is five-seven-six-_six-_eight, not six-_eight_-eight."

She felt her cheeks heat. "Oh."

He noticed and touched his cap. "My apologies, ma'am. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'm Cam—we spoke a few days ago."

"Where is he?" she asked quietly. "Where is Russ?"

He looked her straight in the eyes and she had her answer. Orin felt her lips trembling and clamped a hand over her mouth to try and stop it. She lowered herself into the chair. Cam took the empty seat beside her.

"It was seven hours ago," he said.

She could hear his words, but she couldn't bear to look at him, instead staring blankly at the line where the wall met the floor of the corridor.

Cam kept talking, his voice scything through the fog in her brain. "The main reactor got contaminated by sabotaged fuel. The fuel lines to the secondary reactor were stuck. Russ went in there to close the valve."

He paused and swallowed. "It wasn't supposed to be a one-way trip… things went wrong. We couldn't get to him in time."

It felt like her throat was trying to close up and choke her, but she had to know. "Was it quick? Was he"—she bit her lip, but pressed on—"was he in pain?"

There was a sigh beside her. "At the end, he knew what was going to happen. He chose… how."

"How?" she asked in a small voice. Part of her didn't want to know, but the other part _needed_ to know. For Russ.

Cam didn't reply.

"Please. I want the truth."

"His lungs were damaged," Cam said. He seemed to be picking his words carefully. "Any large pressure changes would kill him. He knew that. So when his air began to run low, he…" He trailed off.

Orin shut her eyes tight. It didn't sound quick or painless to her. "Thank you."

"Would you like me to escort you to your shuttle?" he asked. "There should be one going down to Rothana's spaceport in an hour."

"No, thank you." She didn't want to see his face that was so close to Russ's, yet so wrong. She couldn't hold it together if she had to withstand an hour of that. "I can find my way."

He stood and she did likewise, gathering up her duffle bag.

"What will you do now?" she asked, conscious of the fact that this man had taken the time to come and see her and tell her about Russ.

Cam gave a half-shrug. "I'll be on _Fearless_ when she leaves again. Comm duty like before."

The callousness of his words shocked her. Russ was dead, yet it was business as usual?

He must've seen it on her face because he said, "there's still a war on, you know." He paused. "Russ knows… knew that."

And this man was supposed to be Russ's friend? She walked away, back stiff.

"Orin!"

She kept going, not slowing one whit. She could feel the tears coming on and she couldn't bear for anyone to see.

"He saved us all!" he called after her. "He died saving our lives."

Orin heard his words echoing in the corridor behind her; they didn't help. Russ was gone and it was time for her to go home.

.

**FIN**

* * *

><p><em>Thank you for reading and please know I am so, so sorry for mushing your feels! The story just came out that way despite my attempts to write a happy ending :( Some characters just will not cooperate even though it's in their best interests. <em>


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